


Barriers

by izzydragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bunker Fic, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Coda, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s08e22 Clip Show, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzydragon/pseuds/izzydragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is always going to leave, and there just isn't any time for 'sorry' any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barriers

**Author's Note:**

> set post-8.22

Cas is always going to leave.

That’s the number one rule of why. Dean’s always acknowledged that, but the ‘why, what?’ remains tentatively undefined.

The bunker is always suspiciously warm for an underground structure, Dean never questions it. He hums a soft tune, nodding his head gently as he stirs the pot of pasta, bare feet padding around the kitchen at certain intervals in order to gather more salt, some herbs, some pepper to help Sam sweat out his fever perhaps.

Dean stops humming and sighs sharply, Sammy, he worries, shaking his head as he drags a hand tiredly down his face and turns to switch off the stove.

A slight rustling behind him breaks him from his thoughts, and he holds his breath for the longest time. He doesn’t turn around, but squares his shoulders and plants his feet more firmly into the ground, as if trying to keep himself grounded and aware.

“Dean,” the voice is soft and hesitant.

But Dean just squeezes his eyes shut for a second, purposefully loosens his muscles and continues to cut up some herbs for the pasta sauce. He ignores the churning in his stomach, and still doesn’t turn around.

“I-“ the voice stutters, “I’m sor-”

Not this time pal.

“Dinner!”

Dean forces his face into a wide grin and spins on his heel to face Castiel, “It’s pasta, don’t wanna live off burgers for the rest of my life, y’know.”

He speeds around the room, gathering three plates and serves up two reasonably sized portions and one smaller to take to Sam in a minute and places them on the counter, deliberately ignoring Castiel’s wide-eyed and regretful expression.

“D’you want beer?” Dean calls over his shoulder as he makes his way to the fridge; “I always pinned you as more of an Iced Tea kinda guy,” he speaks with no intention of listening to any answer he may receive.

He was aware that he was rambling at this point, but anything to delay the undesirable inevitable, right?

Dean grabs two beers regardless, and walks towards where Castiel is standing next to the table, in the exact same spot in which he appeared, and places one beer near to the angel, taking a sip of his own.

Castiel looks down at the beer, and then slowly slides it off of the table, clutching at it tightly in his right hand, letting the left one slip into his coat pocket.

His eyes flicker up to Dean, the back down at his shoes timidly, “Are we not going to talk about this, then?” he asks softly.

“Talk about what?” rage rises high and nagging in the back of his throat, “what’s the point in talking, huh? You’ll probably just float the fuck off whilst I’m mid sentence.” Malice and anger causing the volume of his voice to rise. He can’t bring himself to feel bad.

The lines between Castiel’s eyebrows deepen, “Dean, if I could just apolig-“.

Dean barks out a laugh, “What, you come back, you almost kill me, you leave, come back again with a seriously weak explanation-”, he pauses, making violent, sweeping gestures with his hands, “leave again, and then come back with ‘sorry’?! Friggin’, ‘sorry’?!” 

Anger twists his expression, flecks of saliva flying from his mouth as he shouts; no doubt he’s awoken Sam by now. Castiel just stands there, looking at the floor.

“That’s not gonna cut it this time, you coward.” 

Dean was faintly aware of the fact that he was being purposefully hurtful, but he just didn’t care beyond the angry ringing in his ears. He needs to get this out.

He takes a breath.

He lowers his voice slightly, “I never asked for anything from you, Cas,” trying to catch the angel’s eyes with his own. The angel is silent.

“I just needed you to be here, man.” he admits shakily, anger rising once more, “But you’re never here. You’re never here. And you never tell me why.”

Dean waits for some sort of response, but when he doesn’t get one, he continues on, his voice rising again. 

“I-“ his voice catches “I believed that you’d come back, every time.”

Castiel shifts, and Dean only now notices that the angel is clutching the beer bottle in his hand so hard that small cracks are appearing in the tinted glass. Dean’s heart clenches as he rasps out his next few words.

“I…had faith in you, Cas.” 

Castiel flinches, squeezing his eyes shut, releasing a shuddering breath.

“Dean,” it comes out croaky and broken and high pitched, “Dean,” he says Dean’s name again in a breathy whisper.  
Dean clenches his teeth together and tries to fight away the burning behind his eyes when Castiel looks up suddenly.

There are tears in the angels eyes, a single rivulet falling and rolling down his cheek, his lips are trembling and he’s shaking his head slowly, looking once more at the ground. The rage seeps out of Dean, just like that. He steps towards Castiel, slowly, putting his hands up to signal he means no harm. 

Castiel is muttering to himself brokenly, whispers of words like ‘Naomi…Metatron’ and ‘…there were so many’ and ‘so much blood’ finding their way to Dean’s ears.

“Cas,” Dean whispers softly, and Castiel just fucking _crumbles._

The beer bottle falls from his hands with the first racking sob, smashing on the ground, beer and glass fragments now covering it. The weight of the ones to follow sends him to the ground, his legs bucking and knees hitting the ground with a crunch of the glass.

Dean looks on with horror, what the hell is he meant to do with an angel breaking down in his kitchen?!

Castiel is still sobbing softly, head hung low, kneeling among the beer and broken glass and palms now surely cut up and bleeding where they press into the ground.

A small taping sound from behind him does not break his gaze from the angel, even when they turn into more discernable, heavy footsteps. Dean does not move as his brother observes the scene, the angel sobbing at his feet in a puddle of beer and glass and blood.

He still doesn’t move when Sam whispers out ‘Cas’ in a worried breath and half-jogs over to the angel, kneeling down without care for the mess on the floor, and pulls Castiel into a warm embrace.

The world is hazy as looks onto where Castiel is now gripping the back of Sam’s shirt like a vice, burying his face into one broad shoulder and sobbing freely as Sam strokes a comforting hand down the back of his trembling head.

His brother looks back to him with a furious expression, shakes his head at him and then turns back to face the angel.

Awareness hits Dean, and he steps hesitantly towards the two familiar bodies.

“Sam,” he says gently, his brother looks back at him once more, anger still around the edge of his eyes, “I…I got this.” He nods to himself for self-reassurance.

His brother seems to think about something for a minute, but then nods, and pulls Castiel’s hands from his sides as he gets up slowly, untangling himself from the still-trembling figure. 

Getting up with a wince, backing away gently, he sends a serious nod towards Dean, the silent ‘don’t fuck this up’ evident in his eyes, and then limps back towards his room.

Dean breathes out slowly a few times, and then crouches down to Cas’ level. The angel is still shaking slightly, snuffling and looking down sadly at his own knees.

“Hey, Cas” he places a tender hand on Castiel’s shoulder, “Hey buddy.”

A soft whine comes from the angel’s lips, aw fuck it, and Dean gathers him into a hug. Castiel clutches to him, hands grappling for purchase against his soft t-shirt, nose pressing damp into the side of his neck, breathing against it wetly.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut, inhales, and exhales, “I’m sorry, Cas.”

He feels Castiel let out a burst of breath that feels suspiciously like a pained chuckle.

“Me too,” he croaks out, muffled against Dean’s skin.

“You’re not a coward.”

“I know.”

“I still-“ love you “-believe in you. Always have.”

Castiel raises his head slowly, red and puffy eyes meeting Dean’s.

“Me too.” he smiles sadly.

And everything is okay.

But Castiel is going to leave, and - damn it – that’s why.

That’s why.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
